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HENRY 










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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

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POEMS. 



BY 



HEN RY G. KOST 






1885 



"PS^lc^^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, m the year 1885, 

By Heney G. Kost, 

In the office of the Librarian of Congress, "Washington D. C, 



CONTENTS 





Page- 


LOVE — 




A Vision 


. 5- 


I Think of Thee 


6 


*** 


. 6 


Message 


7 


Love and Desire ... ... 


. 8 


The Maid of Judea. 


9 


Night Vision 


. lO 


To 


II 


To I , ON BEHOLDING THE MOON . 


. 12 


Thoughts of the Past 


12 


Night Thought 


. 13 


To MY Love 


14 


Consolation 


. 15 


To I 


IS 


A Love Story ....... 


.16 


Wish — On Reading a Letter .... 


17 


A Poet's Message 


. i8 


Bella 


19 


Highland Mary 


. 20 


Fair Maid of Palestine 


21 


The Rose of the Orient 


. 22^ 


Mass and Confession 


23 


Wadi et Tih 


• ■ . 25 


Light and Darkness 


26 


NATURE — 




A Spring Evening 


. 28 


The Thunderstorm 


. 28 


Evening 


. 30 


Rain and Sunshine 


31 


Spring — Happiness 


. 32 


Evening in Central Park 


.32 


Tuberose 


• 33 


Autumn . 


34 


The Storm 


• 35 



MEDITATION — 

Hope 

Faith, Hope, and Charity 
Death in the Midst of Life 

Life 

Why? 

The Spring of Poetry 

Woman 

The Realm of Fancy , 

A Contrast .... 

PICTURES OF LIFE AND FANCY— 

Alhambra 

A Vision by the Pyramids 

Jerusalem 

The Church-yard by Moonlight 
Eve's Daughter .... 
The Song of the Ship . 

Sappho 

Twilight Thoughts 

VOICES OF melancholy- 
Bygone Days .... 
Faded Flowers 
A Meteor's Flight 
The Forest Grave . 
Death 



IN MEMORIAM — 

James Abraham Garfield 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
Leon Gambetta 

THOUGHTS AND SKETCHES — 

Immortality 

On seeing an old Portrait . 

By the Sea 

In Autumn .... 
Shipwreck 

PATRIOTISM — 

Battle Song of the Arabs . 

SONNETS — 

To Helen 

To A 

To Rebecca 

To Victor Hugo 

A Hero and a Martyr 

The Rise of Music . 



Page- 

37 
. 3B 

3& 
• 39 

40 

- 41 
42 

. 42- 
43 



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55 
57 
58 
60 

63 
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6s 
65 
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67 

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73 
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oue. 



A VISION. 

Oh, oft at night, as silent I before my window stand, 

The silvery crest of Luna looking down 
From miles away, far in another land. 

And myriad stars, as diamonds in a crown, 
There twinkle brilliant in the azure sky; 

Celestial gladness seizes on me then. 

As in the moonlight, by yon narrow glen, 
My fancy paints one, floating, fair, on high. 

Yes, now I greet one, fairy-like in grace, 

A blooming figure nears me, soft brown eyes 

Graze at me, an angelic, lovely face 

With cherry lips, as from far fairer skies : 

'T is none but she, the chosen of my heart. 

Whose tender presence cheers my lonely hours, — 
Her merry laugh, — Oh, loveliest of all flowers. 

In thy pure breast pray that we ne'er shall part ! 

But time flies onward, — in the distance. 

The hour of midnight on some church tower strikes ; 
And suddenly, that fairest of all visions 

Is vanished, — lonely stand I, glancing towards the skies. 

2 5 



I THINK OF THEE. 

When, in the morning's early light, 
Mine eyes regard Aurora bright; 
When night is speeding fai' away, 
And wakening nature greets the day, — 
I think of thee ! 

When, in the noonday's glaring sun^ 
Where the clear brook's eool waters run, 
I stand and gaze on Nature fair. 
With lightened heart and pensive air, — 
I think of thee ! 

When all the world in slumber lies 
And I stand looking towards the skies. 
Where Luna weaves her silv'ry train, 
My heart to thee is turned again, — 
I think of thee ! 



Oh! when I first beheld the lovely maid. 
Who to my glowing heart is grown so dear. 

All other faces sought oblivion's shade. 
And unseen forces riveted me near. 



Expressions, that ne'er could description bear, 
Grleam in her face, and light her brilliant eye; 

In graceful ripples falls her silken hair, 
Angelic charms around her figure lie. 

By fascination bound, whene'er I stand 

Before her, the ideal of my heart, 
I see the stamp of our Maker's hand. 

And thoughts sublime bid earthly doubts depart. 

^T is destiny that binds me by its chains. 

Its bonds inseparable, those of love. 
To her, who unto death my heart retains. 

Yea, past the grave, till we be one, above. 



MESSAaE. 

Ye fleecy clouds, fast fleeting. 
Haste — bear my heart's kind greeting 
To one who's far away. 

Ye birds, so light-winged sweeping. 
Speed — say my heart is weeping 
For one so far away. 

Thou love, unconscious flying. 
Tell her, my heart is dying 
For her, far, far away. 



LOVE AND DESIRE. 



'T was near the hour of midnight ;- 
I passed thy home alone, 

And, from behind the curtain, 
A light still dimly shone. 

I thought I could distinguish 
A shadowy form and gray, 

That flitted by the window 
And chased my grief away: 

With far-strained eye I noted 
A slender shape and fair. 

That oft my fancy painted 
And girt with jewels rare. 

And, as I thus stood gazing, 

A sigh broke from my breast: — 

" Oh, couldst thou now behold me 
And give me heavenly rest ! " 

" If, for a few brief moments. 
My love I could confess. 

Thy soft form fondly clasping, 
I'd all my bliss express ! " 

In vain are all my wishes; 

My loving heart must weep. 
For thou art severed from me. 

And all thy passions sleep. 



THE MAID OF JUDEA. 



Oh, the daughters of Israel are graceful and fair ; 
Their cheeks are like roses and raven 's their hair. 
And the smiles that their soft-moulded features do light, 
Cast a radiance around like the moonbeams at night. 

Like the flowers that grow on blue Galilee's shore. 
Like the sweet-scented lotus that Jordan once bore. 
Like the fleet young gazelles that seek Kedron's cool rill, 
So Solyma's sweet rosebuds grace Zion's green hill. 

But of all these fair maids there is one, that, sublime 
In her heaven-born beauty, is famed through Mizraim. 
Whose neck's like the swan's, and whose pure snow-white breast,- 
Is the most sacred spot where alone I could rest. 

'Neath the path that, each day, runs the bright golden sun, 
On the earth's mounts and valleys, like liei* there is none ; 
For the angels of heaven no brighter could shine 
Than that maiden most lovely of rich Palestine. 

Ye praises of mine, how poor ye do sound, 
When the sweet singing birds her fame bear around, 
When each rose in its perfume breathes forth rare delight 
As she passes beside, like the fair Queen of Night. 

From the hillside the cool crystal brook seeks her feet ; 
And for beauty like hers Siloah's mirror is meet. 
And the graceful gazelles swiftly speed o'er the plain 
On that fair maid to gaze, upon worth without stain. 



Like the Star of the Evening its splendor sheds 'round. 
So the Maid of Judea with beauty is crowned ; 
Like the diamond that sparkles in pure, spotless light, 
So the lovely, young virgin 's a jewel most bright. 

Oh, the daughters of Israel are graceful and fair, 
Their lips are red rosebuds; like silk is their hair ; 
But of all these sweet maids there is one that I love: — 
'Tis the bright Rose of Sharon, famed Solyma's dove! 



NiaHT VISION. 

When rapturous thoughts my bosom swell, 
As on my couch I pensive lie, — 

The low toll of the midnight bell 

Brings memories, destined ne'er to die. 

Amid the scenes of former days, 
AVhen pleasures fair encircled me. 

There looms a sweet, familiar face — 
My source of joy and misery. 

I dread its gaze, and yet I find 

Sweet solace in those lustrous eyes; 

By reason's fetters unconfined. 
My old love doth triumphant rise. 

It fills my breast with passion's sweep, 
Transports me to the peaceful sky; 

And, though my heart doth, suff'ring, weep- 
I, living, love and, loving, die! 

10 



TO 



My child, believe me, though I see thee not, — 
Though cruel fate may wrest me from thy side; 

Though e'er to miss thee be my worldly lot — 
ril love thee still, whatever may betide. 

Thou art so beautiful, so kind and sweet, 

That o'er my life thine own hast cast a charm. 

And, though our hearts may not in union meet, 
True love and hope recurring fears disarm. 

The day may come, when Time's destroying hand 
Thy soft brown hair shall turn to silv'ry gray, 

When youth and beauty enter shadow-land, 
When smile and gladness pass alike away. 

Alas, 't is sad, that such is Nature's law — 
That all are destined once to fade and die; 

That she, whom erst a lovely maid I saw. 
Shall, old and feeble, greet my tearful eye. 

That time may come, and others may forsake 
Thy tender form of rosy youth bereft-. 

Still, to thy side, my tottering steps I'll take, 

I'll love thee still, as when Spring's bloom was left, 

O dearest love! my heart's, my soul's delight! 

Thou, more to me than aught mine eyes have seen; 

I've loved thee long, I'm thine in age's night, 

I'll love thee when our spirits dwell in heaven ! 

11 



TO I . 

iOn beholding the Moon.) 

Each time I see fair Luna's light - 

Flow over vale and hill, — 
I think of thy dear eyes so bright, 

Ask, dost thou love me still! 

For once thou toldst me, lovely maid. 
That thou the moon hadst sought; — 

Because I to her homage paid, 
I knew of me, thy thought. 

And oh, when once thy thought doth turn. 

To me, who love thee so, 
I feel that strong thy passions burn,^ 

Thy love for me doth glow ! 



THOUGHTS OF THE PAST. 

If, in the quiet evening's shade, 
I seek the spot, where, long ago, 

With one I love I often strayed. 
When joy did in my bosom glow; 

As o'er the scene Selene casts 
Her beams, a silv'ry drapery, 

It seems as if my bliss still lasts. 
Fond memories envelop me. 



12 



I know not whence this dreamy thought, 
That hovers 'round my weary brain, 

Is it by recollection brought, 
Or do here powers mystic reign! 

Oh, fair and lovely, by my side, 

My own sweet love once more appears; 

8he, smiling, doth beside me glide, 

And banished are my doubts and fears. 

The same angelic smile doth light 
Her features soft, of noble cast; 

She looks so kindly as that night, 

Wlien she had said her love would last, 

I call her name, her name so dear, 
But no response comes as of old; 

No welcome tone soft greets my ear — 
The night-wind only whistles cold. 

Ah, thou art gone, joy of mine eyes; 

Thy shade beside me e'en is fled; 
But love within me never dies, — 

Oh, art thou lost, forever dead? 



NIGHT THOUGHT. 

Once more, fair moon, I see thy shape. 
And note thy soft, enchanting light ; — 

As in the past oft was my wont. 

When she was mine, — the future, bright. 

13 



Now, e'en as I, so sometime she 

May seek thy rays, as long ago, 
And, if I not forgotten be. 

On me some thought she may bestow. 

Thon'st been our friend, hast seen our joy, 

Hast watched us, loving side by side; 
As then, thou 'rt now and evermore ; 

We've changed — thou 'It shine, when long we've died. 



TO MY LOVE. 

Oh say not that I've loved in vain. 

Say not, 't was all for naught ! 
Oh treat me not with proud disdain,— 

Lend me but one sweet thought! 
To thee mine earthly hopes all cling, 

Thou art the world to me — 
Wouldst thou my love to ruin fling! 

Couldst thou so cruel be! 

Oh come once more unto my heart. 

Sweet child, as long ago ! 
And say: thou'lt never from me part, 

On me thy love bestow ! 
Then shall those old days come again 

When I could call thee mine; — 
Oh let me not implore in vain, — 

My heart is ever thine ! 

14 



CONSOLATION. 

I saw thee weeping in my dream, 

And shelter soughtst thou at my breast. 

Thy starry eyes with tears did beam: 
All, banished from thy bosom, rest. 

As, for protection, hies the child 

Into its mother's fond embrace. 
And there, secure from dangers wild. 

Its fears soon calms, and smiles, and plays,- 

So clungst thou to me, sweetest maid; 

Thy soft white arms encircled me ; 
Thy throbbing heart told me, dismayed. 

What cruel fate had come to thee. 

I kissed thy lips, so warm, so sweet. 
And strove to soothe thy dreadful care; 

My poor, dear child, would it but fleet 
That sad misfortune, now thy share. 



TO I 



I may try to forget and hate thee ; 

I may seek e'er thy presence to fly: 
Endeavor to flatter the stately, 

And love all whom mine eyes can descry. 



15 



When I hear the heavy silks rustle, 
When I see the bright diamonds shine, 

Amid the sweet smiles and the bustle, 
I may deem others' charms fair as thine. 

Or when, wild, aroused are my passions, 
When I live for the moment alone. 

When enjoyment my life's path fashions. 
No soul may I love save mine own.. 

But society's beauties, their dresses. 

The mad revelry through the long night. 

Ambition, and women's caresses — 
All vanish, at once, at thy sight. 

Yes, I need but again behold thee, 

And gaze at thy matchless, bright eye; — 

Thy smile, be it met e'er so coldly. 

Melts my heart, and for thee I could die. 



A LOVE STORY. 

In eighteen hundred seventy-seven, 

I first beheld a maiden fair; 
With eyes, bright as the stars of heaven. 

Sweet face and silken, soft, brown hair. 

Her form was graceful, slender, slight; 

The blush of youth decked her smooth cheek ; 
Her winning voice was my delight; 

Her, day and night, I longed to seek. 

16 



Ay, many a time I warmly pressed 
My lips on hers, and clasped her waist, 

And, fondly, all my love confessed — 

While, sweet, she smiled, so young, so chaste. 

We pledged eternal love and truth. 

She promised she would constant be. 
Ah, golden, was that dream of youth — 

How loving then, she clung to me ! 

Yet, now I miss her, day for day: — 
Her love is o'er, mine will not fade. 

Fore'er we're parted; — wherefore, pray I 
" 'T was not to be," — so Destiny said. 



WISH. 

Suggested on reading a letter written by * * * . 

Oh that the hand, which gently traced these lines, 

Were held in mine ! 
That hand of velvet, snow-white, azure-veined — 

That hand divine ! 

Oh that the eyes, that o'er them brightly glanced, 

Might meet mine own ! 
Those eyes in which a promised heaven dwelt. 

For me alone. 

Would that the lips, that once my cheek and brow 
With kisses blest, 

17 



Those lips of ruby, honey-laden, sweet, 
On mine might rest! 

Oh that the heart, that erst with tender love 

Did beat for me, — 
That heart most pure, — might it, eternally. 

My dwelling be ! 

Would that the form, so godlike, graceful, fair. 

Were ever near ! 
That shape, th' embodied Eden of my soul, — 

That maiden dear! 



A POET'S MESSAOE. 

Oh tell me, gentle queen of night. 

With silver rays so brightly beaming, 

Wliat vale thou 'st viewed, what ice-clad height, 
And over whom thy light was streaming! 

Oh hast thou seen that ancient land 
Whose fame eternal tombs are telling; 

Where lotos-flowers brilliant stand. 
In Nile's cool bosom, softly swelling? 

Say, hast thou borne my greeting there. 
Unto the maidens, sweetly smiling! 

And hast thou kissed their foreheads fair. 
With charming tales their sense beguiling! 

18 






I know thou 'st beamed my message old, 
Hast whispered of my secret yearnmg. 

The flowers and maids their eyes unfold, 
With joy, my care and love returning. 



BELLA. 

When I think of that beautiful maiden. 
Whose soft "hand I clasped in mine, 

A delightful gladness comes o'er me, 
Borne, peaceful, from regions divine. 

My heart seems so light and so joyous. 
As, long since, in years passed away; 

Like a bird I could soar through the heavens. 
To the golden stars I could stray. 

For there, still most sweetly would linger 
Her accents, unmarred, in my soul; 

While the troubles of earth, cast from me. 
Nor my heart, nor my mind could control. 

Yet e'en while these mortal fetters 
Hold me chained fast in worldly care. 

The thought of that beautiful maiden 

Makes their weight a slight burden to bear. 

Her smile, like a blessing, rests on me, 

I still see her brilliant eyes shine, 
When I think of that beautiful maiden. 

Whose soft hand I clasi3ed in mine. 

19 



HIGHLAND MARY. 

Where the hill-tops touch the sky, 

And white clouds the summits crown;, 
Where Earth seems to Heaven nigh ; 

Whence o'er miles the eye looks down: 
There, amid the lofty peaks, 
Where the voice in echoes speaks; 
Where the peaceful herd doth graze. 
And th' enraptured wand'rer strays — 
Dwells my "Mountain Mary." 

Where the eagle wings its flight, 
And the cricket chirps so gay; 

Where most solemn reigns the night, 
And, majestic, rules the day: — 

There, where maples, tall and fair, 

Eise amid the bracing air; 

Where the sun, in molten gold. 

All the landscape doth enfold — 
Dwells my "Catskill Mary." 

In those regions full of lore, 

'Round whose grandeur legends clingy 
Known to those who lived of yore, — 

Tales that birds to lovers sing: — 
Fair of face, with soft, gray eyes, 

Grolden-haired as nymph of old — 
Dwells one who in beauty vies 

With the day, and pure as gold: 
My sweet "Highland Mary!" 



20 



FAIR MAID OF PALESTINE. 

Sweet maiden, graceful maiden, 

That wert so close to me, — 
With Nature's best gift laden. 
My heart doth long for thee. 
Thy dark eyes beamed with starry light, 
A soft smile graced thy features bright 
When I beheld thee, and loved thee, and sighed 
As thou, Judah's daughter, beside me didst glide. 
I'll think of thee. 
Most lovingly. 
Though severed and parted forevermore, 
Thou and I the world roam o'er, — 
Fair Maid of Palestine! 

Sweet being, lovely being 

Couldst thou be ever mine ! 
In love and life agreeing. 
Our fate would be divine: — 
When, tenderly, in love's caress. 
My lips on thine I'd warmly press. 
And all that thy heart could desire, dear maid. 
With unbounded love at thy feet should be laid. 
Now, night and day, 
I hope and pray: 
United our hearts, forevermore. 
As one, we may roam the wide world o'er, 
Fair Maid of Palestine! 



21 



THE ROSE OF THE ORIENT. 

I love the maiden of the East, 

The golden Orient's brightest gift; 

Whose charms invite mine eyes to feast, 
My thirsting* soul to raptures lift. 

The breath of sweetly scented flowers 

That bloom throughout the moonlit night, 

The guitar's strains beguile the hours, 
Wake an entrancing, strange delight. 

Like a deep sea her bosom heaves ; 

Bewitching brilliance yields her eye. 
Its jewel-flash a gay dream weaves 

Of joys untasted, yet most nigh. 

O'er the soft shoulder falls her hair. 
Deep-black as night each glossy thread; 

Her warm lips glow, enchanting, fair. 
Her smiles the rosy cheeks bespread. 

Oh in her arms, when each sweet kiss 
Seals our bond of boundless love, 

I revel in celestial bliss. 

Through all Elysian joys I rove. 

Her bright eyes heal my wounded breast, 
And ev'ry earthly sorrow flies. 

When that fair maid beside I rest, 
The Orient's rose, my Paradise ! 

22 



MASS AND CONFESSION. 

An Answer to the Question : "I suppose you were to Mass and 
Confession j-esterdav ? " Inscribed to t1ie Inquirer, Miss L. H. 

I was in* a wavering spirit, 

My heart was oppressed with care; 

When I sought, in secret confession, 
Peace of mind, relief in prayer. 

I went forth to the vast cathedral. 
That Grod has reared in the wood, 

Where the blue sky peeps, bright and cheerful, 
Through the roof that for ages has stood. 

I heard the sweet-voiced songsters 

Their melodious mass intone — 
They chanted of beautiful Nature, 

Perched high on their leaf-crowned throne. 

And silvery bells were chiming. 

With delicious fragrance filled. 
The white lily, gently swaying. 

All my soul with harmony thrilled. 

In this strange, secluded region 

I sat down, 'mid the music and song, 

And the flowers were my confessors, 
While the birds seemed to listen along. 

The wild rose and daisy were smiling. 
When I whispered my greatest sin: 

23 



"That a beautiful maiden's image 
Has stolen my heart within. 

"That my lips are filled with her praises; 

That my dreams she makes fair and sweet; 
That my heart throbs loud, with enxotion, 

Whenever that maiden I greet." 

The flowers gazed gently upon me 

And breathed words of comfort and cheer, 

While I fancied I saw them blessing 
My love for that maiden dear. 

But I fear, that the feathered songsters 
Have listened too slyly and close. 

For I soon heard them sweetly singing 
A love-song to the rose. 

And now, they may bear to that maiden 

My secret in their song; 
And when I see her smile again, 

She may have known it long. 

In the note of the thrush and the- robin. 

In the silvery voice of the lark. 
The maiden may all my confession 

To the wild wood-flowers mark. 

Ah, who would have thought in the forest 

That my secret might be sung 
To her, whom I love and worship. 

By the birds, while the flower-bells rung! 



24 



WADI ET TIH.* 

"Come into my beautiful garden, 
A\^iere, graceful, the date-palm grows, — 

AVliere perfumes most fragrant are wafted. 
Where bloometh the Orient's sweet rose. 

"In its green foliage glistens the orange. 
And the olive, so luscious and smooth; 

There the nightingale singeth her love-song: — 
Oh enter, thou fair, pensive youth ! 

"The trees, in my wonderful garden, 
As the spice-laden breeze bends their boughs, 

AYliisper tales of gay nymphs and fairies. 
And the soul to new pleasures arouse. 

"Oh come, for I love thee, my hands shall 
Thy brow with a laurel-wreath twine : 

ril kiss thee, and fondly caress thee — 
And forever, I shall be thine!" 

Thus lures me the beautiful houri. 
The maid of the warm, golden East; 

Her eyes sparkling like the bright diamonds 
That shine at the Ramazan feast. 

And her raven tresses around her, 

So soft, so invitingly wave, — 
As her white arms, extended in longing. 

My presence, my passion still crave. 

Wadi et Tih (Arabic), Valley of Distraction, Labyrinthine vale. 

25 



Oh longer, I cannot resist her, 

Thongh destruction my fate shall be 

I must clasp to my heart that siren — 
I enter the Wadi et Tih. 



LIGHT AND DARKNESS. 

It may be that I am destined 
To love her but to die, 

For even, while I am joyful. 
Death may be hovering nigh. 

The dark clouds may be gathering. 

The fatal storm arise. 
While I bask in the sunlight. 

In the sunbeams of her eyes. 

Oh may (if Fate decrees it, 
That I soon pass away) 

Her sweet smile be upon me 
Until my dying day. 

For unknown, strange 's the region 
That looms beyond the grave. 

What loved hand shall receive me. 
Beside dark Lethe's wave! 

O earthly life, creating 
The bliss of mortal heart: 

How sad, how woeful seems it. 
From thee, from her to part ! 

26 



For with a chain of roses 

She clasps my yearning breast ; 

And in her bright eyes gazing, 
I find the sweetest rest. 

Oh may the love, that binds me 
To earth, preserve its sway. 

And her dear smile, still cheering. 
Illume my dying day! 



27 



^aturc. 



A SPEINa EVENING. 

No more, the noise and strife of day; 

'Neath western hills the sun has fled; 
The nightingale, the minstrel's lay. 

Alone are heard, — all else seems dead. 

Towards the high zenith sails, sublime, 
Night's gentle queen, the silv'ry moon; 

Joy, peace, and rest to ev'ry clime 
Her mission is, Jehovah's boon ! 



THE THUNDERSTORM. 

The air, a few short minutes past, was tranquil, 

And in the dark sky e'en some stars 

Did palely shine, 'mid fleecy clouds; 

No breath of wind did then move branch or leaf. 

Yet even then, a storm lurked in the distance, 

For, suddenly, the wind with giant force 

Did from its bed of idleness arise, 

28 



And onward sped with a tremendous sweep, 

And elonds of dust soon marked its headlong course. 

Then seemed those orbs that sail the endless heaven 

Forever faded, — clouds of blackest hue 

Did span the sky's wide arch. Yet, suddenly. 

The night seemed changed to day — 

For, dazzling bright, a flash of lightning sped 

From its high birthplace miles down to its grave, 

And scarcely had the trail of lucid fire. 

Attendant on the dart that knows no bar, 

From the sky's gloomy vastness disappeared; 

When, louder than all sound conceivable, 

A peal of thunder rang miles through the night; 

A crash it was, as but by Heaven's artill'ry 

Could be produced. Its echo, deafening, loud. 

From one obstruction to another passed. 

With awe and fear filled man and cow'ring beast; 

The very earth did shake, as if internal fire 

With strenuous efforts sought to rend its way 

Through rock and soil. And this was but 

The skirmish, which did introduce 

A battle of the unchained elements: 

More fearful than the conflicts dread on earth 

When foe meets foe. And so the elements. 

For many a dread, an hour-seeming minute, 

Ruled with tempestuous sway; 

Till peace at last did supersede the strife, 

And heaven once more was clear. 

Then man did for his preservation thank 

The Power that rules benignly Earth, Sky, Universe. 

29 



EYENINO. 

I stand alone upon a mighty hill — 

The day-king's last gold rays illumine fair 

The tree-tops far below; the bubbling rill 
Lulls Nature into sleep; the clear, fresh air 

Cheers up the wanderer, who, in rapture lost. 
Leans on his staff to find a weak support. 

The robin guards its nest, that, uppermost. 
Above the branches, on the tree is wrought. 

The vesper bell the flight of day forebodes. 
And, while the herd its stable seeks and rest, 

The farmers hasten to their rude abodes. 

Where lights are twinkling. At its mother's breast 

The tender infant lies in slumber sweet; 

The father, smiling, from his toil returns, 
With joyous clamor, him the children greet, 

Wlio, with his brow's sweat, bread, hard-toiling, earns ; 

These scenes of life below me, far below 

Are passing on, and now, with colors bright, 

With flashing gold, the west is all aglow. 
Then, fading slow and gradual the light. 

The trees, the mountain long gray shadows throw; 

Bright stars of gold upon the sky appear. 
And, as the darkness over all doth grow. 

For sounds of life in vain doth list the ear. 

30 



I 



EAIN AND SUNSHINE. 

How fast the clouds ars sweeping 

Along the gray-hned sky; 
The storm wind piling, heaping 

Fantastic shapes on high. 

Oa,y Bymph and airy fairy 

And elf and gol^lin queer, 
In strange contortions vary. 

On to confusion steer. 

How fast the rain is pouring, 

And clattering, dripping, thrown, 

Hy wailing and deploring. 

And shrieking wind-gusts blown. 

Bright pictures rise before me 

'Mid all this whirl and toil,— 
I see, in simlit glory, 

Once more the rain-blest soil. 

How green, how fresh the grass-blades, ,^ 

The flowers, young and fair; 
How cheerful, from the wood-shades. 

The bird-song fills the air. 

Hlusion now, yet surely 

This all once more shall be; 
More beautiful, more purely. 

By rain-drops cleansed and free 

31 



SPRING— HAPPINESS, 

What means the happiness, 
Coming like sunshine, 

Gliding, with sweet caress, 
O'er my sad heart! 

Soft it encircles me. 
Life's charms increasing, 

Thoughts of my former glee 
Wafts on, unceasing. 

Sweet sing the songsters gay, 
Bright flowers waking — 

Children of lovely May, 
Joy bearing 'round. 

Spring bids all sadness fly. 
Nature now healing. 

Love comes and sorrows die, 
New life revealing. 



EVENING IN CENTRAL PARK. 

The tree-tops are clothed 
In the sun's liquid gold; 

On the ground lie cool shadows. 
For the day has grown old. 

32 



In glory and splendor 

It now takes its leave; 
Its work has been done, 

For it joy bronglit and grief. 

The birds sing farewell 
- In music most sweet, 
And bright flowers, bowing, 
Their praises repeat. 

Through the wood and the meadow, 

On the hill, o'er the vale 
All Nature is joyful — 

Night's rest shall prevail! 



TUBEEOSE. * 

Mower, dream-like, sense o'erpow'ring, 

Star in virgin raiments white, 
'Round thee sweetest perfume show'ring; 

Symbol of the soul's delight. 

Mower of Death, tear-bathed with weeping; 

Flower of Life, of Pleasures rare; 
Sad and joyful, ever reaping 

Fancies born, celestial fair. 

Mower poetic, nightly pouring 

Forth, increased, thy amorous breath; 

While Imagination, soaring. 

Sees Love's pleasure, sees Love's death. 



33 



Flower created, Love awaking, 
On a maiden's breast to lie; 

There, all other thoughts forsaking, 
Bid all else, save Pleasure, die. 



AUTUMN. 

With fingers dipped in sunset liue^ 
Comes Autumn, on her airy wings, 

Fast sweeping through the heavens blue, 
And paints the green leaves gay, and sings; 

"Ye children of the youthful Spring, 

Born in the gentle rain of May, 
To whom the Summer warmth did bring 

Deep shades, to cool the sultry day. 

"I clothe ye now in red and gold. 
Once more to please the eyes of all. 

Till, sapless ye, alas ! and old, 
G-rim Winter's sacrifice must fall. 

"Yet, mourn not, for eternal change 

Creation's work must undergo. 
Fierce winds shall not forever range, 

Nor Earth repose 'neath ice and snow. 

"From death the new life shall arise, 
And fairer shall the new-born be, 

On scenes of beauty gaze all eyes. 
When Winter yields to vernal glee.'* 



u 



Thus sings the goddess and, serene, 
Her smile with light the landscape fills, 

Then sails the lieaA^ens and earth between, 
Dark grow the vales, red glow the hills. 

I note her, fading slow from sight, 
Regret the fair one parts so soon. 

Now come the cool shades of the night, 
In lofty regions shines the moon. 



THE STORM. 

Hark! The raindrops loud on the pavement fall. 
And the fierce winds, whistling around the wall. 
With their wail and moan sad old tales recall : 

Of danger and strife. 

In man's varied life ; 

How he struggles with deeds. 

Often fails, rare succeeds; 
And how tempests severe hide the end seeming near. 

'Tis pleasant within, but chilly without; 
Light shines in-doors as if darkness to flout, 
While the last green leaves are scattered about. 

The wild spirits dance. 

Their spectre-steeds prance. 

And they whirl through the air. 

Changing hope to despair. 
As they howl, rend, and shriek, while the door-hinges creak. 

35 



The storm waxes fiercer, it doubles its force 

And sweeps 'round the corners, its voice sounding hoarse. 

Dread ruin it bears in its wild, unchecked course. 

How the rain-drops all 

In torrents now fall, J 

As they splash on the stones, ' 

'Mid the timber's sad groans. 
Yet who fears death though near, if his conscience be clear? 

Dear faces around wake my heart's delight; 

What contrast there glares, 'twixt the fireside bright 

And the dismal gloom of this stormy night! 

Here smiles and there sighs. 

Here lives what there dies. 

See the joy by the hearth, 

And the grief on the earth. 
When the rain fast doth pour and the wild tempests roar. 



36 



^etlttatiatt. 



HOPE. 

Time is flying, 

As we 're sighing 
Over our luckless fate; 

Ever scorning, 

Eve and morning, 
Till, alas! it is too late. 

But 't is better. 

We '11 be happier. 
If we 're striving nobly on ; 

Hope forever. 

Act, endeavor, 
Choose some work to build upon. 

Let the past years, 

Clipped by Time's shears, 
Lost, and all forgotten be. 

But the future 

Brightly picture. 
And more joyful days we'll see. 



37 



FAITH, HOPE, AND CHARITY. 

Have Faith in tliat, which, to thy mind 

Unshaken seems, and true. 
Hope shouldst thou in thy bosom bind, 

With strength it doth imbue. 
Thy heart in Chdnfy will find 

Relief and blessings new. 

These all support, ennoble, raise, 

O'ercome the care of future days. 

On them thou safely mayst rely. 

When doubt, and gloom, and strife are nigh. 



DEATH IN THE MIDST OF LIFE. 

(A Coffin in a Railroad Depot.) 

Amid the toil, amid the noise, 

This silent guest — 
Where sound the call, the shouting voice, 

He is at rest. 

They rudely seize and careless throw — 

Of heed no sign — 
Of rosy wood, with flowers of snow, 

His narrow shrine. 



38 



Oh pity those who, tearful, saw 

His life take flight; 
Who brought these wreaths with love aud awe- 

They dwell in night. 

A thought most sad and yet most proud 

This sight awakes: 
He — silent, grand; they — lowly, loud, — 

His journey makes. 



LIFE. 

What am If Whither shall I go. 
When, o'er this flesh, my soul divine 

Resigns its temporary reign? 
Thus, often do our queries flow: 
Sometime we smile, and sometime pine 

O'er thoughts so deep, so grave, so vain. 

For questions, that no mortal yet 
Has answered, feeling sure he 's right. 

And thoughts that lead us all astray. 
Can only give us cause to fret. 
Our joys with doubt's dark shadows blight, 

And lend dissatisfaction sway. 

So let us turn, and live this life 
As best we can, our time employ; 

Seek pleasure where we can contrive 
And give our fellow-mortals joy. 

39 



WHY? 

Why should these proudly raise then" head,, 
Unnatural look on others down! 

AVliy should tliose toil till, numb and dead, 
They see life's misery no more frown I 

Why should these gallop, richly clad. 

And, haughty, spurn those with their feet!" 

Why should these ride in chariots gay, 
Those e'er on weary limbs them meet! 

Why should these squander in a day. 
In feasts, and base, luxurious ease. 

What those a full year's slave-work costs, 
From early youth till life doth cease! 

Why should these rustle with their silks. 
In gold and jewels decked, most rare! 

Why should those grope in rags about. 
The stamp of poverty thus wear ! 

Why should, in splendid, perfumed halls. 
These live and rest on cushions soft! 

Why should, in grimy sheds confined, 
Those pass their days, and hunger oft! 

Was not one man meant to be lord 
E'en as the other on this earth? 

Does death not come alike to all f 
Is it not all men's doom from birth? 
40 



Was this world wrought for tliese^ that, proud, 
They may thek equal fellow spurn I 

Does not the sun shine for mankind? 
Does't ever from ih^ poor man turn? 

The air to breathe, the waters clear, 
The emerald grass, the shady wood, 

Were made for all who live and die. 
Whose veins run warm with human blood. 

Why should these ever masters reign 
And deem Creation all their ownf 

Why should those slaves forever be. 
Why, tell me, is man's lot thus grown ! 



THE SPRINa OF POETRY. 



He, who would earn the poet's fame, 
Must feel the torments of his breast. 

The pangs, that an immortal name 
Create, and banish peace and rest. 

When misery gnaws the singer's heart. 
His lips with deathless songs o'erflow; 

When care and sorrow stern depart. 

His rhythmic thoughts like meteors glow. 



41 



WOMAN. 

Woman — riddle still unsolved, 
Ever in man's mind revolved, 
Loved and hated, kissed and spurned; 

Smiling, weeping, jesting, scolding. 
Still thy dignity upholding. 

Stealing hearts thy sisters earned. 

Lovely as the gods of heaven ; 
E'en in sin to be forgiven; 

Stubborn, anxious e'er to change; 

Careful, lest thy charms forsake thee; 
Careless whosoe'er may take thee; 

Thoughtless, scheming, wondrous strange!! 



THE EEALM OF FANCY. 

There is a realm that Fancy's flight 
Alone can reach, alone can view; 

Where lies the Present, clear and bright. 
And the dim Past seems fresh and new. 

There roam, sublime, the mighty dead. 

Forth at the poet's wishes led; 

There he communes, unchained and free, 

With them that were, and yet shall be. 



42 



A CONTRAST. 

I saw two females — one, a maiden, yonng, 
Fair, bright-eyed, gay, e'en as a budding rose; 
Beside whom, close, an aged matron sat, 
With furrowed brow and careworn countenance. 

The one, in Life's all-radiant morning, looked 
Into the future, full of joy and hope, 
As if imag'ning e'er to walk o'er flowers, 
And have the smiling sunbeam kiss her cheek. 

The other, at the eve of mortal's round, 
In the reviving memory of her childhood called 
Back to her mind the dimmer-growing past. 
When care and trouble, things were all unknown. 

One smiled, anticipating coming joy. 
The other viewed her, and most sadly sighed; 
While I, regarding both, both sighed and smiled, 
Pitying the two — one for her loss of youth; 
The other for the cares that yet would come, 
Thinking of Life's uncertainty and end, 
Smiling at our ignorance of its purpose. 



. 43 



yiriure^ of ^ifc anil ^aimg, 

THE ALHAMBRA. 

Dedicated to the Memory of Washington Irving. 

In ancient Spain's once powerful domain, 

Where Wealth and Honor shared with Might the reign, 

Whence Learning, from her lofty, star-crowned seat. 

Sent her apostles all the world to greet: 

In that old realm, whose glory, long since past. 

Great brilliancy o'er many ages cast; 

Whose rulers joined the morning with the night. 

Their empire girt with one unfading light, 

There lies a town, Granada, like an isle 

'Mid grassy waves, beneath the sunbeam's smile. 

At one time strong, the Moslem's l3oast and pride, 

Now lovely still, though all its power denied. 

Near this old city's time-worn, tow'ring walls, 

A palace rises with great marble halls; 

Renowned for noble, cursed by bloody tale. 

Once sounding with the captive's pleading wail — 

The grand Alhambra on a hillside stands. 

Famed through the East, well-known in western lands. 

Not far away, its aged, white-capped head 

The high Sierra lifts, while, overspread 

4t 



By long, gray shadows that the mountains throw, 
The fan* green Yega, smiling, lies below. 
Through this broad valley, gently, Xenil glides. 
Whose water gold and precious jewels hides. 

In times long past, ere, with a glitt'ring cross. 

Yon lofty steeples o'er the city rose, — 

When Moorish valor, Moorish noble deed 

A halo pure cast o'er Ismail's seed, — 

When Moorish maids with matchless beauty blest. 

Such visions as enchant the poet's rest, 

Like liouris of the blissful paradise, 

Graced this bright spot, most lovely 'neath the skies 

A Moorish king, for sage-like wisdom known, 

As also skill and valor were his own. 

Conceived the plan of raising, rich and rare, 

A palace on the vine-clad hillside fair. 

The work began with earnest, steady zeal. 

Yet oft, eternal Nature did reveal 

Her varied show of rain and sunshine's gold ; 

Old men had died, and young men had grown old, 

And even these, kind Earth within her wing 

Had long received, ere, by another king. 

Of Nassar's lineage, the work begun 

By great Alhamar was complete and done. 

This was, of all the famous works of man. 

The fairest that with mortal hand he can 

E'er hope to raise. As there it glorious stood 

Upon the hill, while, in the sunlight's flood, 

45 



Granada's mosques rose like the liill-tops white, 
Could mortal ever fancy scene so bright: 

As \yhen the sun rose in those days of old 

And bathed the halls in seas of lucid gold, 

His warm rays cast upon the towers tall. 

Then, creeping slow along the shining wall. 

The windows sought, whence deep-black, lustrous eyes 

Cast furtive glances towards the azure skies ! 

Then, in the Court of Lions flowers bloomed, 
AYliich sweetly all the grand, wide hall perfumed; 
The fountains sparkling diamonds bestowed. 
In their cool drops a hundred colors glowed, 
And Sport and Mirth reigned here the livelong day, 
When youths and maidens watched the waters play. 

Alcoran's laws above a throne of gold, 
The Hall of Justice did its wealth unfold; 
Rich carpets from the Orient on the floor 
And curtains of blue satin at the door. 
In it, with low obeisance, servile look. 
The faithful subject his position took; 
While his great master, seated on the throne, 
The lord of house and lands was he alone. 
With calm, short gesture did him near invite, 
To state his wish, or his brief story cite; 
Or, if there captive be, unlucky wight. 
His doom was sealed here by the royal might. 

Oft, in the famed Ambassadors' huge hall, 
AVhose lofty, strong, all but eternal wall 

46 



With tapestry rich and jewels rare was hung, 
Its massive silver pillars bearing, strong, 
A ceiling tinted with the sky's fair blue. 
Divans around that shone with roseate hue. 
The great envoys of mighty nations stood — 
From Castile, men of proud and noble blood. 
To bring new tribute to a Moslem king. 
His aid to ask, and then his praise to sing. 

Yet sweeter, far, than in the busy day. 
At night, when all the vale in slumber lay; 
When silence reigned within these fairy bowers. 
By naught disturbed, save by the drizzling showers. 
Of spray, slow dripping from the fountain's head 
When all life seemed to rest as do the dead. 
The Queen of Night slow from her couch arose 
And silv'ry glances cast on this repose; 
In yonder grove awoke the nightingale. 
With melody entranced the moonlit vale. 

Then, sleep escaped a lovely maiden's eyes. 
Brilliant as stars that shine o'er Paradise : 
Fair Lindaraxa, bright oriental pearl. 
Unrivalled daughter of a fruitful soil. 
Famed beauty of the Moorish nation proud. 
Her praise the sweet night-warbler sang aloud ! 
The maid, enraptured, to her garden hied. 
Enjoyed the night and saw it onward glide; 
She kissed the dew-drops from bright roses red 
With rosy lips, then turned her noble head, 

47 



And smiling, gently, she did greet once more 
Diana's crescent, loved by her of yore. 

Such were the scenes in times now long gone by 

When still was heard the Moorish battle-cry : 

The "Allah Akbar" dread, — then, one fair day, 

Granada no more under Moslem sway, 

Alhambra's halls, by Christian warriors trod, 

Resounded with Te Deums unto Grod, 

In praise to Him, for that great battle won 

The day when Xenil red with blood did run. 

But with its fall, G-ranada's glory fled. 

It was the Moors', and with the Moors it bled. 

Now years are past; yea, centuries are gone 

Since last Alh^mbra in her splendor shone; 

The walls are bare, for nothing can assuage 

The sure decay, the e'er sharp tooth of age. 

Deserted are those beauteous halls by all. 

Save by the wand'rer, wishing to recall 

To memory scenes of those most glorious days. 

When Moorish romance these fair bowers did grace. 

Sometimes, 't is said, upon the midnight hour. 
Sweet Lindaraxa seeks her ruined bower. 
And through the night air sadly sounds her wail — 
She mourns her people, her soft sighs prevail. 
Poor soul, who in her deep grave cannot find 
The peace and rest death gives to humankind. 

By pale shades haunted, great Alhambra now 
The stamp of beauty still bears on her brow, 

48 



For in those bleak walls yet the eye can trace 

Their precious ornaments of former days. 

O'er all this spot a magic spell doth reign 

Whose power clasps e'en old Grranada's plain. 

The wand'rer, halting 'neath these famous skies, 

Imagination feels unbounded rise — 

Alhambra in her glory stands once more, 

He sees the glitter and the pomp of yore; 

Gay, youthful maidens, warriors stern and strong, 

Wliite-bearded sages, seem those halls to throng — 

But all unreal, slow, these visions fade. 

While sadness doth his throbbing heart invade — 

'T was an illusion of his wond'ring eye 

And fancy e'er 'neath truth's sharp stroke must die. 

bitter truth, that this great palace must " 

Soon sink to earth, and crumble into dust. 

Must share the fate of those who, hoping, died, 

That it possessed what was to them denied; 

But, lost to sight, it still will live in song, 

By fame preserved, will be remembered long. 

Its end, now presaged by the slow decay. 

Another proof that all must pass away; 

That naught on earth, though noble, proud, and fair,, 

Withstands forever time's relentless wear! 



49 



A VISION BY THE PYRAMIDS. 

''T was night — I sat beside tliat massive pile, 
The pyramid, great tomb of vanished days; 

Near by, its slow course wound the holy Nile, 
And, grim, the Sphinx displayed her giant face. 

The moon, in splendor, crowned the ancient East 
And shed her light o'er pyramid and plain. 

While, of their ghastly banquet now to feast, 
Hyenas sped and jackals in their train. 

Now, as I mused, like some mysterious spell, 

A strange sensation o'er my spirit came; 
Into a peaceful slumber soon I fell, — 

Of Egypt dreamt I as she's known by fame. 

Not long had Morpheus, drowsy god of sleep. 
With shelt'ring arms my weary frame embraced. 

When new, young life seemed through my veins to sweep,' 
I woke, and o'er this scene, bewildered, gazed: 

The plain, the Nile, the pyramids were there. 

And moonlight dipped the palms in silver bright. 

Yet, not alone dwelt I 'neath Luna's glare. 

For thousands thronged the land this mystic night. 

Now sturdy men stood there and women pale, 
In dresses gay, with gold and silver hung. 

And what was strange, their voices seemed to fail. 

For, though they spoke, no word escaped their tongue. 

50 



The men most noble, ^age-like, did appear, 
Their dark eyes flashed beneath a lofty brow, 

All eager seemed the king's command to hear. 
Whom all did greet with humble, servile bow. 

The Pharaoh most proudly raised his form 
And cast a kingly glance o'er those around; 

Within his breast, of passions raged no storm. 
No drop of blood life to his body bound. 

His lips did move, yet not a single word 

Escaped him, who with firmness ruled this land ; 

Not e'en the rustling of the gowns I heard. 

For death chained all with his unpitying hand. 

Not death, such as in man's conception dwells. 
When rigid, icy, rests the lifeless clay; 

Here, motion thoughts of deep repose dispels, 
While paleness, silence, cannot life display. 

But lo — I saw, amid the surging crowd. 
The maids of Egypt, lovely as their clime. 

Black were their tresses, their demeanor proud — 
I knew them well, the daughters of Mizraim. 

Alas, their bosoms heaved not passionate. 
Their rigid features lit no kindly smile, 

A mystic spell, an unrelenting fate 

Preserved their shapes my senses to beguile. 

Their eyes alone some spark of life retained, 
They spoke the language of the unknown past ; 

51 



Those orbs, that once some prince's love had gained, 
Imploring looks on me, intruder, cast. 

They seemed to beg, to pray a minute's breath. 

Most pitiful their vain endeavors all. 
Life's penalty, — cold, cruel, mocking death 

Their souls confined within the heavenly hall. 

My heart was weeping at this awful sight, 

Compassion's tears poured forth their streaming flood^ 
As, helpless mortal, I saw beauty's plight, 

AYhile sympathy could not bestow life's blood. 

I turned and gazed upon those giant works 

Whose stones outlived time's all-destroying storms, 

Where now at night the prowling jackal lurks. 

Then rose, half -wrought, the massive tow'ring forms. 

And there, another people now did toil, 

A noble race in captive bondage led — 
The sons of Jacob tilled the fertile soil. 

And with their sweat Egyptian coffers fed. 

Among them rose a man, whose glorious eye 
Proclaimed him chief o'er reason's wide domain; 

A man, whose name shall ne'er be known to die — 
The sage, the prophet, destined all to reign. 

His people, still in Egypt's thraldom bound. 
The Pharaoh's tomb were rearing to the sky; 

Fair maids in white stood gazing all around. 
And saw the stranger with a curious eye. 

52 



I looked, and marvelled at the wondrous sight, 
When I beheld a virgin, whom I thought 

I long had known and loved before this night, 
A maid whose beauty had my passion brought. 

Those eyes I knew, that shone like heaven's isles 
Beneath the silken lashes soft and dark; 

A marble brow, the winning tender smiles. 
Those were her lips ; 't was bliss such charms to mark. 

Her form was slender, and her maiden-waist. 
Alluring slight, the graceful figure showed; 

The bosom's fulness hid by garments chaste 

That o'er her limbs in snow-white pureness flowed. 

At last, on me she cast her brilliant eye. 

And spell-bound stood I, while she calm surveyed — 
No recognition did her glance imply — 

I was a stranger to this scene conveyed. 

The marked resemblance had confused my brain, 

Till this conclusion led me safely on; 
In my own love I'd met this maid again. 

Her ancestor mine eyes now looked upon. 

Four thousand years had left the charms unchanged 
That in this virgin first had come to light; 

The beauty had through generations ranged. 

And those two maidens seemed the same tiiis night. 

Now fascination bound me to the spot; 
I saw the toilers, the Egyptian king, 

5 * 53 



The maids, and him, whose laws are not forgot, 
Whose wisdom did to nations blessings bring. 

^*0h for one word now from those silent lips! 

Oh for a sound from ont this mute array ! " 
The mason strikes, the stone to shape he chips. 

The motions all, all, noiseless, pass away. 

I rose, amazed, enraptured, still I sighed. 

So lonesome there amid the multitude. 
"What means it allf " a voice within me cried. 

And from my contemplation woke me, rude. 

Far o'er the pyramids I plainly traced 

Four brilliant stars that shone with splendor rare. 
And lo ! between them was bright Luna placed. 

The heavens glowing from their golden glare. 

Oh peace and grandeur reigned through endless space— 

Infinity, eternity I saw! 
Such scenes our eyes, our senses all amaze. 

They fill our soul with reverence and awe. 

Mine eyes, my thoughts dwelt with those isles of light, 
They lingered there, there peace and rest they found. 

And when I sought the concourse of the night. 
It all had vanished, fled the ancient ground. 

Once more alone, amid the ruined stones, 
I sat and mused upon the change of years. 

And silence ruled, save when the whispered tones 
Of wind, and sand, and wave fell on mine ears. 

54 



JERUSALEM. 

( By Moonlight. ) 

As of old, the moonbeam falls 
Now on Zion's sacred walls. 
As of old, the silv'ry light 
Lends bewitching charms to night. 
But the temple stands no more, 
And no guardian at the door 
Bids the pious humbly bow 
At Jehovah's dwelling now. 

As of old, the moonbeams glide 
O'er the hills, once David's pride. 
Strength and beauty, all are gone; 
Yea, there rests scarce stone on stone 
Of that ancient city prou^. 
Where the priests then chanted loud, 
Praised Jehovah's power and grace. 
In those long-departed days. 

Gloomy, now but ruins stand. 
Where once houses decked the land; 
Lone, deserted are the streets; 
Seldom, mortal, mortal meets; 
Where the black-eyed maids of old 
Won the hearts of warriors bold; 
Where the mother nursed her child, 
And the father blessed and smiled. 



5S 



Whither 's Zion's glory fled! 
Answer me, ye ancient dead ! 
Where 's the House of Worship, famed, 
That Adonai afar proclaimed? 
Judah's lovely daughters weep 
Now, for those who silent sleep; 
For the city of their joy. 
In Destruction's hand a toy. 

Jacob's sons, with saddened heart, 
Mourn the loss of might and art; 
Loud bewail their people's fall 
At the Temple's sacred wall. 
Silently lament the Wise : 
''Shall to life fair Zion I'ise 
Nevermore! O Grod," they cry, 
''Must our Nation, scattered, die!" 

Still, the moonbeams rest, most bright, 

On that venerable site; 

But a shadow light they there, 

Whence once rose a brilliant glare; 

And this truth meets ev'ry eye. 

That old Salem doth descry; 

Israel's glory now is fled, 

O'er the world her children spread! 



56 



THE CHURCH- YARD BY MOONLIGHT. 

The moon shines bright, the sky is clear, 
And quiet in the grave-yard reigns ; 

Here rest the weary year for year, 
Here silence, doleful death domains. 

In countless numbers, grim and white. 
The sculptured tombstones rise on high, 

And in the pale, mysterious light 
Like spectres greet the passer-by. 

The old man and the virgin sweet. 
The babe, the mother, here repose, 

Beneath the sod all ages meet. 

The same moss o'er their grave-stones grows. 

How soft the night-wind glides along 
The weeping willows' drooping boughs. 

It seems to sigh a mournful song, 
As if the tired souls to rouse. 

They wake no more to joy or grief, 
Their day is past, for e'er they sleep; 

With love, their breasts no longer heave. 
The living o'er their dust must weep. 

But hark ! Far o'er the moonlit ground 
The midnight bell rings through the air. 

And slow, the twelve long strokes resound — 
They hear it not who slumber there. 



57 



A youth wakes from his troubled sleep — 
His dreams had brought her to his side,. 

Who rests where sad green willows weep, 
The lovely maid, his sweet young bride. 

The tears fall from his weary eyes; 

In former years, when calm he dozed. 
The midnight hour bade him rise 

And gaze where, soft, his love reposed. 

But now that time f ore'er is past ; 

His thoughts the lonely church-yard seek,, 
A small green hillock — there, at last. 

They dwell, and tears his sorrow speak. 

O field of death, 'neath moonlit skies, 

When all is silent far around, 
Emotions strange within me rise. 

When I regard thy tear-stained ground ! 

EVE'S DAUGHTER. 

Shade of Byron — from that world 
Where the souls of men divine 

Dwell in peace — I charge thee: speed. 
Haste to where, in soft incline, 

Reach the green banks to the lake; 

Where the blackbird sings most sweet. 
Nestling in the leafy boughs. 

And where sound the songs of maids. 

Where yon boat the water ploughs: 
58 



Speed, I charge thee, for thine eyes 
Shall in rapture drink once more. 

Sated in the beauty rare 

That there ornaments the shore. 

Raven tresses crown her brow, 
And her eyes are black as night ; 

But a glance, and man is bound, 
Rooted with a strange delight. 

In Aurora's softest hue 

Bathed her cheek, like velvet smooth; 
As the purest snow those teeth. 

Cherry lips, sweet sign of youth. 

There she sits and whispers softly 

Words like music to the ear. 
And her lover, close beside her. 

Insignificant and queer. 

While the poet drinks delighted 
In those charms, near and yet far, 

Wishing he were where her lover 
Sits so stupid, mouth ajar. 

Sighing for her arms, her kisses. 
For her words, so soft, so sweet. 

Knowing, that to-morrow even 
Other lips her own shall meet. 

And the bard sings, as all bards have 
, Sung in days long passed away, 

59 



Of that which ne'er can be gathered, 
Never reached, the same old lay. 

Lovely, graceful nymph of old, 
Borne to our prosaic time; 

All inspiring to behold, 
To immortalize in rhyme! 



THE SONG OF THE SHIP. 

Charlestown Navy Yard. 

Once, in the fulness of a summer's day. 

When, golden bright, the sun its rays sent down, 

Where busy Boston 'neath the heavens lay, 
I stood among the ships at Charlestown. 

Into the river, murm'ring, as in sport. 

Whose blue-green waves forever fell and rose, 

There stretched a pier, a firm, but last support 
For ancient battlers 'gainst our country's foes. 

Hereon I stepped and sought the further end 
To gaze and think, — to link the glorious past 

With the tame present, and an ear to lend 

To strange, weird tones, that came, now slow, then fast. 

The bare-stripped remnants of a stately ship 
Lay there, secured by rope and rusty chain; 

Lifeless, forsaken, with no flag to dip. 
No sails to furl in the fierce hurricane. 



Mastless, bereft of fire-spouting guns, 

Of the fair stars and stripes, erst proudly borne; 

Once crowded with Columbia's manly sons, 
Now but a ruin, shattered and forlorn. 

Like a faint shadow, faded, dim with age, 
Her name, still visible, at bow and stern 

I read "Ohio," and a brilliant page 

On Clio's record, I could straight discern. 

And those strange sounds, as each wave came and went, 
Played on the ropes that bound the ship to shore. 

Alternate loose and strained, a longing sent 

All through my soul, to know their mournful store. 

So, patient listening, free from other thought 
Of time and place, but, swift, on Fancy's wing 

To realms of deep interpretation brought, 
I heard the ship in doleful cadence sing: 

I moan, — moan, — moan, — 
For I here am doomed to lie. 

I groan, — groan, — groan, — 
I must pass away and die. 

I lament, — lament, — lament, — 
That I roam the seas no more,- 

Torn and rent, — torn and rent, — 
G-reat Ohio — forty-four. 

61 



I sigh, — and sigh, — and sigh, — 

Could I bear the starry flag. 
Far and nigh, — far and nigh, — 

And my Country should not lag. 
Lag, alas, — lag, alas, — 

On the Ocean's realm behind; 
But would pass, — pass, — pass, — 

A thousand sails, spread to the wind. 

I moan, — moan, — moan, — 
For I here am doomed to lie. 

I groan, — groan, — groan, — 
I must pass away and die. 

Oh, my Country's noble fame 
I did to the world proclaim. 
When my sisters thronged the seas, 
In war alike and peace. 

I moan, — groan, — moan, — 
For the Union masts are low, 
'Twas not ever sadly so — 

I groan, — groan, — groan, — 
For I here am doomed to lie, — 

I moan, — moan, — moan, 
I must pass away and die; 
I must pass away and die. 



SAPPHO. 



Upon a rock, that overlooks the sea, 

I saw the lovely Sappho rest; 
A sweet-stringed harp lay lightly on her knee ;, 

Her wavy hair flew 'round her breast. 

A strange, poetic light beamed from her eyes ; 

Inspired she seemed with thoughts divine, 
Created from her white brow to arise. 

As prophet's truth from Delphi's shrine. 

Far in the distance, by the sunset's glow 
Blood-red, a ledge rose from the deep, — 

Thereon she gazed; the ocean, bound, below,. 
Wild-seething, — yonder, calm, asleep. 



TWILIOHT THOUaHTS. 

When the day has changed to twilight, 
And the sun has gone to rest, 

While the air is still, and calmness '* 
Fills with peace the toiler's breast. 

Oh how pleasant then to ponder. 

By the fire's cheerful glow, 
With the shades of dear ones near me. 

Of the days of long ago. 



T^riends and comrades rise in vision, 
Stand there, whispering, as of old, 

In their accents sweet, familiar, 
Tenderly their hearts unfold. 

Brightly glare the blazing wood-logs; 

Graceful, curl blue clouds of smoke 
From the clay-bowl's flavored contents, 

Weave o'er all an airy cloak. 

Joyful thus I hold communion. 

With those far removed, though dear; 

Musing silent, while increasing 
Darkness gathers — night is here. 



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oif 5 af JItelatttfialg. 



BY-GONE DAYS. 

Ye spirits of my happy youth, 

Oh flee not, but surround me now; 

My heart with joyful memory soothe, 
And gently bathe my burning brow. 

Though e'er departed former bliss. 
And dead the love that once was true, 

I cannot old remembrance miss. 

And seek for hearts and pleasures new. 

Though I could drown in Lethe's wave 
Sad recollections, old and gray, 

I 'd bear them all, could I but save 

The thoughts of joy that would not stay 



FADED FLOWERS. 

The perfume of days long departed. 

The happiness of the bright past. 
Still faint seems to cling to these roses, 

Though their beauty but shortly would last. 

• 65 



Even so is our life, when, surrounded 
By sorrow, by toil, and by care. 

We think of the pleasures long vanished. 
And dream how the sun smiled so fair. 

How promising seemed all the future. 
Our noble ambitions, our love; 

How we thought but of the morrow 
Some new enjoyment to prove. 

The roses of our bright fancies 
Are withered to shadows pale, 

The leaves that once shone so gaudious 
Are scattered away by the gale. 



A METEOR'S FLIOHT. 



Hast thou seen the bright star falling 
E.rom the studded evening-sky. 

But an instant, fiery flashing. 
On its downward course to die! 

Thus a brilliant life, and promise 

Of a noble, lasting fame. 
Torn by Fate, descend to darkness. 

Veiled oblivion, whence they came. 



66 



THE FOREST GRAVE. 

When I am dead and gone, 

From cherished scenes my spirit fled, 
My tomb, shall mark no stone. 

To laud the tameless dead. 

I would my grave were made 

In some deserted, lonely spot. 
Where ag^d trees surround a glade. 

And hide my narrow cot. 

I would, beside, a stream might flow 
With ebbing w^aters, — one, whose tide, 

From the near sea, might slowly go 

Its course, and turn, and backward glide. 

As in my youth, unscourged by care, 
I loved the cooling wave to cleave — 

Its murm'ring in melodious prayer. 

Around my tomb a charm would weave. 

When Autumn's storms shall strew 

My grave with leaves, a withered wreath, 

The passing birds, at sunset's glow. 
May sing of him who- sleeps beneath. 

No dirge, save sighing winds shall tell. 
No requiem, save the robin's song. 

Of one who struggled and who fell. 
Too frail to bear life's burden long. 

67 



DEATH. 

On its wings of dismal gloom, 

Death comes sweeping through the night: 
The dread summons to the tomb 

Flaunting, in its pauseless flight. 

Greeting all the mortal throng, 

Flickering light, and gasping breath, 

Neither tears, nor pious song. 
Warm the icy hand of Death. 



68 



h 1 



S\ ^ifemortaiii 



JAMES ABRAHAM dAEFIELD. 

Died, September 19, 1881. 

f 

So thou art gone, despite our hopes and prayers, 
Fled to those elhnes where pain is all unknown; 

The Nation weeps, its heart well nigh despairs. 
It prized thee high, thou wert its favorite son. 

Yes, thou wert loved; in thee we put our trust; 

The ship of state sailed firmly in thy hand; 
When came that cruel blow, that deadly gust 

And threw thee down, and caused our hope to strand. 

Heroic foughtst thou for thy noble life. 
No greater gift th' Almighty e'er bestowed 

Than thine, unselfish, ready for the strife, 
That, patriotic, for thy country glowed. 

O noble sufferer, glorious, fearless man, 

Why were we doomed by Fate to lose thee now 

In bloom of manhood f — vain our thoughts do scan. 
And seek for reason, as with grief we bow. 

6 69 



So we lament thee, vanished from onr sight, 
A glorious star, removed from life's vast sky 

To higher realms, illumed by thy bright light: 
We see thee not, and yet, thou still art nigh. 

Upon the firmament of noble fame, 

Unto the zenith thou pursuedst thy course. 

When, sudden borne beyond our vision tame, — 
Thy deeds remain, of future woiks the source. 

Farewell, beloved; how light our praises fall; 

With thee, our ruler, our fears did cease; 
And now, for us thou giv'st thy life, thine all, 

Diest for thy country — Martyr, Eest in Peace! 



HENRY WADSWOETH LONGFELLOW. 

Died, March S4 1882. 

The pen has fallen from his weary hand. 

The tired body seeks long-needed rest. 
And, as his eyelids close, throughout the land, 
A sigh seems ev'ry bosom to expand — 

The ^'Eeaper Death" has reaped one of the best. 

No more shall that kind eye the children greet 

When twilight reigns, and bright, the grate-fire glows; 
No more the moonbeams note, where, murmuring, meet 
The waves at midnight, while the lips repeat 
Those questions strange, that but the poet knows. 

70 



Methinks, now he is gone to duly earn 

His fit reward with the immortal dead, 
All here on Earth for him would sadly yearn, — 
Tree, leaf, and flower long for his return, 
Who, in all Nature, truths coneeal(^d read. 

His form may pass away, but his grea^ soul 

Will hold communion with those he prized dear. 

E'en as the angels came him to console. 

When long the bells have ceased their mournful toll. 
His spirit, unseen, shall to his friends be near. 

Place 'round his brow the poet's laurel wreath, 
Columbia mourns her bard, so sudden called 
To higher realms, — departed here beneath. 
Yet living still, despite the natural death, — 
By space not confined, nor by flesh enthralled! 



LEON GAMBETTA. 

Died, December 31, 1882. 

How strange is life, how changeful human fate ! 

But yesterday, we saw linn proudly stand, 

A Cicero, proclaiming fiery thoughts ; 

A Brutus, patriot, the hero, vaunted. 

Of that fair land he loved so well; 

The pillar, bearing nobly, firm, unmoved, 

Res publica's pure, massive Doric temple. 

71 



We heard his words, so eloquently roll, 
Forth-poured melodious in his liquid tongue : 
We heard, like thunder-peal, the answering shout, 
A mighty swell, in volumes bursting loud. 
The multitude's unanimous response: — 
Vive ! vive la E^publique ! Vive Grambetta ! 

But seek you him to-day? List, list in vain. 
His magic word will millions sway no more; 
In vain, the ear seeks yon enthusiast cry 
That, so triumphant, rose, his conquest's token. 
Where is that concourse now, the patriot, 
The People's Idol, Son of Eloquence? 
There, in that room, so mournfully bedecked. 
Impossible ! Ay, look, but whisper soft — 
Behold that form, those lips so strangely mute. 
That eye's electric spark f ore'er extinguished ; 
Silent in death; white-haired; with pain distorted. 
The torments and the agony of that wound, yet now^ 
Peaceful and calm, in manhood's bloom cut off 
From triumphs of this strange, this changeful world 
To scenes, to trials, unknown and still more strange. 
The soul, so young, so life-imbued, departed. 
Whisper or breathe, but speak it lowly, softly, 
(In Death's grim presence ill suits mortal shout,) 
Grambetta mort ! Vive ! vive la R^publique ! 



72 



€(|oitgIib anil SF|etclfc$. 



IMMORTALITY. 

Oil was the soul of man e'er born to die! 

Is Nature destined ever to decay! 
Til' eternal stars of Heaven make reply, — 

They seem to whisper, gently beaming: Nay! 

ON SEE] NO AN OLD PORTRAIT. 

Sweet image of a being passed to dust. 

Bearing the stamp of beauty, long decayed; 

Picture of one whose heart did love and trust. 
Last tie to earth of a once lovely maid. 

BY THE SEA. 

At evening, when the sun no more 
Reflects its gold on wave and shore; 
To listen to the sounding sea — 
O picture of Sublimity! 



73 



IN AUTUMN. 

The echoing billows beat upon the shore; 

A lonely sea-gnll swings above the tides ; 
The sky its dark pall spreads the vision o'er^ 

And melancholy in the soul resides. 



SHIPWEECK. 

On the raving sea, to the rocky lee 
The ill-fated vessel is borne. 

A wail, a low cry, and helpless they die, 
The shore within reach and the morn. 



74 



yatnotbuj. 



BATTLE SONG OF THE ARABS. 

In the Soudan, a. d. 1884. a. h. 130]. 

Allah il Allah! 

Allah is great ! 
Charge on the infidels, 

Hnrl the sharp spear! 
Onr breast with valor swells, 

Victory is dear. 
Charge— hew them, though we fall, 
No cursed Giaour e'er shall 
Boast of his vanquishing — 

Sons of the Desert, 

Fear not to die ! 

Allah il Allah! 

Allah is great! 
Lance and Damascene blade. 

Keen, flashing bright. 
Strike, sullen, undismayed. 

In Allah's sight ! 
Offer your brawny breast 
For the ball's deadly rest: 
From no wound languishing — 

Sons of the Desert, 

Fear not to die ! 

75 



Allah il Allah! 

Allah is great ! 
Bravely your weapons wield! 

Face to the foe ! 
Living we never yield, 

Onward still go! 
Shout the wild war-cry fierce, 
Till it to Heaven pierce: 
Houris are listening. 

Sons of the Desert, 

Fear not to die ! 

Allah il Allah! 
Allah is great! 
Though the death-speeding lead 

Hearts tear in twain, 
Warriors can laugh at dread, 
Cowards disdain. 
Over our rigid clay 
Only, the Griaour shall stray; 
Heaven is glistening — 
Sons of the Desert, 
Fear not to die! 
Allah il Allah! 
Allah is great! 
La ilaha illallah 
Mohammed Resul Allah ! 



76 



onneb. 



TO HELEN. 

Helen, my sister, nearest to my heart, 

Who sharest, beloved, all my weal and woe; 
Who hast rejoiced when fortune and the glow 

Of pride lit on me — Oh how good thou art! 

When, at my failings, thou hast wept for grief. 
When sympathy aroused thy ev'ry nerve, 
I knew that, than thee, I ought none observe 

With greater kindness, none could more believe. 

Oh had I riches, if such would confer 

Joy on thee, sister, thou shouldst have them all ; 
Or were I mighty, and sat high above 
All others, thou, dear child, shouldst with me share. 

But now, and till night's shadows o'er me fall. 
And e'en beyond, thou 'It have a brother's love ! 



TO A. 

When gloomy sadness o'er thy spirit creeps. 
When sorrow dwells within thy weeping heart. 
When grim despair seems ling'ring ne'er to part, 

And hope, all vanished, in thy bosom sleeps : 

77 



Then seek those wondrous realms that Grod has filled 
With works of grandeur, infinite, sublime; 
The heavens behold, that ever peaceful clime, 

Whose orbs, majestic, bright the azure gild; 

And gaze upon the wide, eternal sea. 

That rolls forever with its glitt'ring wave. 

And watch each billow, and its changing slope; 

Then will thy heart be soothed, and new-born hope 
Arising, soon thy wounded spirit lave. 

Thus Nature heals, and wtikens sympathy! 



TO EEBECCA. 

Sweet child, dear playmate of my childhood days! 

Thou gentle spirit of a happier life ; 

Whose presence once, ere toil, and care, and strife 
Were known, my boyish heart with joy did raise. 

Rebecca ! dream of a sweet long-ago ! 
Dearer for all the years I saw thee not. 
Yet, from that cherished moment unforgot 

When thy bright smile first set my cheek aglow. 

Ever the same, as then, thou'rt now, fair maid; 

In thee, I find what I had lost and sought : 
One, in whose hands my life I might confide. 
So kind, so good, by no false motive swayed — 

Thou, dearest friend, queen of my noblest thought. 
Seem'st, as of old, my heavenly destined bride ! 

78 



VICTOR HUGO. 

"Aimer, c'est tigir." 

Titan of Poets ! Alchemist of Rhyme ! 

Whose crucible yields forth the g'old of thought. 

Philosopher! who, nobly urged, hast sought, 
Hast found the Stone of Wisdom for all time ! 

Lover of Man! extending thy kind hand. 

Where'er thy brother suffered, weak and poor. 
In sympathy; ne'er of thy heart the door 

Didst close upon th' oppressed of any land. 

O gi'eat Magician, whose mysterious power 
Has conjured forth the men of former days; 

To life awakened scenes long vanished, dead. 

Roamer in all the realms, where blooms the flower 
Of fancy, and sweet Nature charms displays. 

A World, its laurels presses on thy head! 



A HERO AND A MARTYR. 

JosKPH A. Seeds, Locomotive Engineer, who sacrificed his life, 
October 22, 1882. 



An humble hero gone to his last rest — 
No blood-stained victor of a battle-field. 
No sage vfhose deep conviction would not yield 

To earthly threat nor to spiritual zest. 

79 



Unskilled in all the brutal ways of war; 

Unknown to him the subtle arts of peace; 

Unlettered, where his lines of duty cease; 
His name unwrit where lofty thinkers soar. 

No dread destruction of a happy land, 
No revolution in the faith of men, 

No great upheaval of the mind he wrought. 

Yet none than he e'er made a braver stand — 
"What nobler deed than his traced Clio's pen? 

Six hundred lives with his own death he bought! 

THE RISE OF MUSIC. 

(To G. S.) 

When first the sun set over Paradise — 
As, in its perfect beauty it appeared 
A scene of peace and love, to Him endeared, 

Who found His work a pleasure to His eyes: 

A little bird intoned a song of praise ; 

Though feeble, sweet, the notes to Heaven rose 
To laud the Great Creator; then, reJ)ose 

Was. changed to one grand Chorus, and apace 

All voices swelled harmonious to the sky. 

The whispering winds breathed o'er gigantic trees; 
The waters murmured, as they glided by. 

And our first parents joined their voice with these. 
Then God was pleased, and He proclaimed on high: 

That Music's charm should reign, and never cease. 

80 



